Evil Harry
by Neveryoumined
Summary: Name says it all! Harry's gone bad! Humor. Instead of HBP, but with some referrences, and maybe some DA. Will parody things both new and old. Please Review, it's the money that keeps these fics coming! T, just in case, for Terrible Truamatic Terror, Too!
1. A little Harry in the Night

In Dudley's second bedroom, Harry sat on his bed. Folding his arms, looking deranged.

It was almost his birthday. In fact, only a few minutes till his sixteenth birthday. He wondered what would be in store for him this year. An evil smile went across his face, as he thought of all the deranged and disgusting things he could do.

An Owl flew in. It was that stupid 'Arrow' or whatever the stupid bird's name was. He opened the letter.

'Greetings, Mister Potter. It is I, your good friend, Ronald Weasley. A few weeks can feel like years without any friends. I can understand entirely with your situation, right now. We all have dark times of our life, but the sun always comes up. You must understand this, my good friend. Never under-estimate the strength of the heart, the virtue of nobility, and the tool of wisdom. In the plainest and simplest words; Happy Birthday, old friend. You have been there for me when no one else was. When no one else was there to shield me from the darkest corners of my mind, and the darkest corners of my life. You have been the light in so many people's lives, your compassionate and selfless behavior surer could never understand what wonders you have given me, and my family's lives.

Sincerely, Ronald I Forget My Middle-Name Weasley. With the greatest and humblest regards, dear friend. I enclose one of my family's greatest possessions, a family heirloom. Given to our family centuries ago for my ancestor's dedication to a great wizards well-being. For all you have done for us, we now entrust it happily to you.'

Harry read the letter, again. His evil and ugly grin lowering. He didn't know exactly what, but Ron's writing seemed a tad ... smarter. But perhaps it was just his eyes, or his evil ambition. He then looked at the card over the wrapped package.

'Hey, Harry. Happy Birthday, and here's your present. Mum wanted you to have it. It belonged to some old guy in the family, don't remember his name. Anyway, here's your tommy gun. It's magical, of course. Enjoy the cake!'

Harry opened the package to find a tommy gun. He grinned, more evil and more ugly than before. He thought it was nice of Mrs. Weasley to give him a tommy gun for his birthday, it seemed very thoughtful and motherly.

Another owl then flew in, right as Harry had begun derangedly eating his cake. It was pig. He looked at the handwriting, and realized it was Hermione. He guessed she was already at the Weasley's. He opened the letter.

'Yo, man. How ya doin', ya old *beep*? Your packs are in here. It's your sweet sixteen, ya *. Hope yer birthday is as unstudied as possible!'

Harry shrugged. The letter certainly sounded like Hermione, so she must of been at La Borrow. He glanced at the note over the wrapped gift, obviously a book.

'Hi, Harry. I'm staying at La Borrow for the summer. I thought it would be easier to stay in a magical home, since we already have such a large list to read before September. Mrs. Weasley says you should be able to come over very soon. Since I imagine you've already gotten all the books you need on your list, I decided to get you a few books for lighter and easy reading. Their all about killing and stuff."

Harry sneered and opened the package. The books were titled 'Beyond Crucio: Torture spells even you-know-who doesn't use', 'Dark arts for dummys', and 'Kickin' House Elves: How to make use of your useless servant'.

Harry grinned, as he ate the next cake, looking corrupt. Then, a barn owl flew in, dropping a letter and a few droppings, before leaving. Harry didn't bother cleaning, rather liking being deranged and repulsive. It was from Hagred, and he opened the letter.

'Harry, Happy Birthday! Brough' you a cake, but it' probably spoiled by now. Though' you migh' like it. Sixteen. Still can't believe it's been that long since I held you as a baby, Harry. And you lookin' more and more like your father, too. Still can't believe it. Well, I'll be seein' you round the school, I guess. I'll be tachin' n' all. Got some great ideas this year, I do.'

Harry's eyes narrowed. This didn't sound at all like Hagred. It must of been a forgery. But he didn't care, and continued reading.

'Anyway, I got ya a baby basilisk! Thought it might be fun ta have a pet your scared ta see. Just don't go killin' any of the students, ya know.'


	2. Singin' All Night

Harry went down, his hair messy and grizzled.

Dudley was there, and pointed at him.

"Hey," He said, "You got messy hair! Ha! Ha! I really have a poor sense of humor!"

"I'd be careful, if I was you." Harry said, not acting at all like himself.

"What?" Dudley said, "Like using weird stuff on me? You can't do weird stuff outside your weird school, as I keep reminding you."

Harry just pointed at Dudley, using his index finger, making a shooting sound.

Dudley looked down at his chest, stunned, before speaking after a pause.

"It didn't work," He said, "Ha! Ha! You can't even do weird stuff right! Ha!"

"If I was you," Harry said, using improper grammar again, "I would apologize."

"Ha! Ha!" Dudley said, "Apologize to-"

But Harry interrupted him.

"Um," He said, his voice normal, "Can we go outside? Do you mind?"

"Huh?" Dudley asked, "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

They walked outside, and continued walking till they found a place with a lot of dirt, where Harry could have the cowboy/cowbadboy feel.

"I wouldn't be laughin'." Harry said, his voice different again, "I might be thinkin' you laughin' at him, less ya apologize, like I know your gonna."

"Ha! Ha!" Dudley resumed.

Then, to make it worse, Dudley's gang arrived on motorcycles.

"Dude, who's this scruffy-haired-" One of them asked, wheeling around Harry.

But Harry was already pointing at all of them using his index fingers, though it was hard to do with them spinning around him, and the obnoxious noise of their motorcycles drowned out his shooting sounds.

But, Harry remembered he had a scar, on his face.

"Say hello to my-" He began, but the motorcycles cut him off.

"Why don't you tell your friends about what I really am?" Harry asked Dudley.

"Oh, yeah." Dudley said, grinning, "Harry Potter does magic. He goes to this school, where they learn how to do magic, and there's this guy who wants to kill him. Ha! Ha! I'm so insensitive!"

"What's that?" One of them asked, having a hard time hearing over the sounds of his obnoxious engine, "Something about how school is tragic?"

"No," Said another, "He said Harry was tragic."

"Nah," The other said, "There's some spy who wants to kill Harry."

"Harry's a spy?!" One screamed, "We better get outta here!"

They all sped off.

"Guess we be alonin', againin'." Harry said.

"Well," Dudley said, "If your so powerful, why do you have to stay here?"

"Why is it you be bringin' up all the same taunts all the timin'?"

Just then, to answer Dudley's question, Dumbledore apparated in front of Dudley.

"I suppose your all wondering why I called you here tonight." He said, his face grim, as thunder struck.

"Uh, Professor," Said Harry, "It's day."

"It is?" Dumbledore asked, the thunder going away, "Oh, well, so it is, Harry. Anyway, I believe we have to go some place, Harry. I told you we had to a few days ago. Happy Birthday, by the way. I would have gotten you a curse gun, but they were sold out. Anyway, here we go."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, feeling less deranged.

"You'll see, Harry." Dumbledore said, as they apparated away.

They apparated in front of some musty house.

"Some old, dark wizard?" Harry guessed.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore said, "Just a retired Professor's."

Harry paused.

"I don't see the humor in that exchange, Professor."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Oh," He said, chuckling, "I suspect you wouldn't."

"So what's the plan?" Harry asked, "Spring a trap?"

"No," Dumbledore said, "We need to pull this slug out of his dusty wormhole, and get his CENSORED back in action, where it belongs! But he won't take CENSORED from me, your gonna have to interrogate the CENSORED, until he spits CENSORED! All this time, I'll be pretending to look at Slughorn's playwizard magazines. Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry nodded; it seemed no matter what, Dumbledore didn't change much. He always worded things the same, kind way.

"Let's go, then!" Dumbledore said, rushing at the door, wand out, before knocking lightly on it.

A man whooshed the door open, wand at the ready.

"DIE, TAXPAYERS!" He shouted, "AVATA.... oh, it's you, Dumbledore. You shouldn't scare me like that. So what do you want?"

"I've got to drain the old magic wand of it's potion." Dumbledore explained.

"I'm retired!" Slughorn said.

"It's an expression." Dumbledore replied.

Slughorn paused.

"You came all this way for a bathroom break?" He asked.

"That, and I think Harry's one of your biggest fans. Or biggest nightmares. Good day."

Slughorn sighed.

"Very well, the door to your left, if you must." He said, "And I suppose Harry can come in if he's one of my fans, as long as he doesn't ask me for my auto-wait, nightmare, Dumbledore?!"

But Dumbledore was already heading for the bathroom, leaving Harry and Slughorn alone.

"So," Slughorn said, "What makes you a fan of mine?"

"So, about these tazpayers..." Harry said.

"It's TaXpayers." Slughorn corrected.

"Right, so about these tazpayers," Harry continued, "What are you going to tell them?"

"I was going to kill them." Slughorn said, matter-a-factly.

But Harry had begun to sing, low and twistedly, even though twistedly wasn't a word!

"Why don't you tell them that your leavin'?" He asked, "Never to come back, again. You found some school that's better than this place, man. Some place where people can fly, make potions out of rye."

Slughorn paused.

"No." He said, "And Dumbledore's crazy ideas are just getting awkward these days."

Harry drew out his wand.

"Don't worry, Professor," He said, beginning to sing again, "I'll have you singin' all night, now! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!"

"All right! All right!" Slughorn said, "I'll return to the school!"

"You will?!" A voice asked from another room.

The door opened, pictures of veela on ripped magazine pages flying everywhere, followed by Dumbledore who was not flying everywhere.

"I knew Harry could do it!" He said.

"Yes," Said Slughorn, glaring at Harry, "It seems Harry has a way of making people feel like canaries."

"Free?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," He said, "The way they sing."

"Whatever." Dumbledore said, "Now, I need to apparate Harry to the Weasley's house!"

"Is that so important to get such declaration?" Slughorn asked.

"I'm trying to conclude this chapter, so we can get to the next." Dumbledore said, "Now, uh, good job, Harry! We're on our way! There, I think that did it right."


	3. Mashed potatos, with a side of vengence

Harry returned just to get his presents, before apparating there with Dumbledore.

"You should tell your friends about the prophecy." Dumbldore said, "It would be boring if you didn't. Bye-bye."

And with that, he apparated off.

Harry walked into the house, the place looking more empty and eerie than usual.

He walked up to Ron's room, where he found both Ron and Hermione in person.

Ron ran up and put his arms around his neck.

"Ooooh! Harry!" He said, "I knew you'd come!"

"Oh, stop it, Ron," Hermione said, "You'll strangle him."

Despite their brief personality reversal, they both seemed the same as always.

"So you got our presents, then?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Perhaps the Tommy Gun can kill Tommy Riddle, know?"

Both paused.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "Your scar hasn't been hurting, has it?"

Harry's eyes got a glint.

"Do you want to know how I got this scar?" He asked.

"Uh, I know how you got it, Harry." Hermione said, "No offense!"

"Yeah," Ron said, "And I'm sure someone's already made that joke."

"Quiet Ron!" Hermiones said, "It's fine, Harry, really!"

"You know," Harry said, "I'm starting to feel like my angsty, fifteen-year-old self, again."

"Is there something you want to tell us?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I'm the only one who can defeat Voldemort. That, and I'm stuck wearing Dobby's miss-matched socks all the time."

"Oh." Hermione said, looking down, "Your socks do look awful, Harry."

"Anyway," Harry said, going to his bed, "I got a new pet."

And with that, he took out the basilisk baby.

"Should get it's eyes deadly soon." He said, "Hagrid gave him to me."

"That half-breeded ape!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione," Ron said, "It's nothing to get angry about. I mean, it only kills you if you look at it, right? So, let's just blindfold it, or something. Nothing to worry about, right Harry?"

Harry shrugged.

"Donno." He said, "But I want to find out."

"Harry!" Hermione said.

Harry ignored her, looking at his books. He had already learned a thing or two from the 'Beyond Crucio' book Hermione had for some reason given him, and had used it on Slughorn. Boy, Harry had gotten him singin' all night. Now, to look at Dark Arts For Dummy's.

But he was interrupted when the door opened, and Fleer Delecore walked into the room, despite her name being spelled wrong.

"Oh, 'Arry," She said, "You are so brave, so bold, so bad!"

"What?" Harry asked.

"You are the baddest wizard I know, 'arry!"

"Uh," Harry said, "Baddest isn't a real word, but thanks."

"For veela," She said, "Bad is good, 'arry. If that makes zense to you."

"Believe me," He said, surprised by Fleer's change of character, and misspelled name, "I know. You sure you still wanna merry Bill?"

Fleer turned around, and walked out, muttering something about 'No good, troll likin' piece of House Elf', but Harry didn't catch the rest of it.

"Merry me, Fleer!" Ron shouted, in his normal haze around her, "I don't care if your name is spelled wrong!"

But she was already down the stairs.

"So," Hermione said, trying to change the subject, "What do you want to do to fill up the rest of this chapter?"

"Donno." Said Harry, taking his Tommy Gun out, "But I intend to find out. Why don't we rid the garden of patatoes, I mean knombs?"

"It's spelled potato." Hermione corrected.

"You spell it potato, I spell it-"

"We aren't doing that joke!"

"Anyway, round' up Fred and George. Tonight, we take out those pototos!"

"It's-"

"Nevermined, just go get them!"

"And never mind is two wo-"

"Just go get them!"

-

It was evening. A perfect time.

"Tonight is a perfect night to de-patata this garden!"

"It's spelled wrong," Fred said.

"And their not," George said.

"Potatoes." Fred concluded.

"Besides," George said, "It's boring work."

"Not, tonight it isn't!" Harry said, drawing out his gun, "This is a curse gun. It's super-cool! I hope they put it in the movies."

"Whatever." Said Fred, "Just-"

"Get on with it." Continued George.

Just then, a fat, potato-like creature wriggled out and nudged Harry's foot.

"Their already attacking!" Harry shouted, "Draw weapons!"

With that, he flipped along the grass, narrowly missing the creature touching his foot again, pointing his curse gun at the same time. It was set to a vegetable-juicing spell. The brown curse struck the creature, sending what looked like mashed potatoes and beat juice everywhere.

"Beat juice." Harry said, "The juice of vengeance!"

"Only, they aren't beats." George said, "So that stuffs blood."

But Harry was pre-occupied, even to notice the word 'preoccupied' shouldn't have a dash in it, as he saw two other creatures as he was laying upside-down on the grass.

"So it begins." He said to himself, "Watch me parody matrix!"

"No!" Said Fred, drawing out his wand, "That would be too annoying!"

He sent a curse at Harry, but he was already spinning threw the air–only their was no camera so he just spun–and time didn't freeze. Fred's curse hit one of the potato-like creatures, sending more beat juice everywhere.

"Let's finish this!" Harry shouted, running while screaming, as though in slow motion, only he wasn't.

"Should we-" Began George.

"Tell him how stupid he looks?" Fred asked, "Nah."

Harry tried to jump in slow motion at the remaining creature, but wasn't really, so he just landed face first, crushing the poor animal.

"Tonight," He said, getting up, "Suppers' on me! Mashed potatoes... with a side of vengeance."

Fred and George just looked at him, arms folded, not wanting to ask how Harry could look so beaten-up from just de-knombing the garden.

"Have you noticed-" George began.

"How random and self-aware this fic is?" Fred asked, "Nah, it hadn't crossed my mind."


	4. Happy Birthday, Harry!

_Madeye's Journal: One day all the excrement_ _of the enslaved House Elves, and their dark arts, and their fornicating Veela will overflow into the Ministry, and all it's corrupted members, and Scrimjore, and the aurors who obey him will cry 'Save us!' and I will whisper 'avata kadavra'._

Dumbledore apparated back to his office at Hogwarts, after showing his returning potions master where he'd be staying, only to find he wasn't alone. There was Moody, sitting in his chair.

"Dumbledore." He said, "Waited for you, but got hungry. Helped myself to Fawkes the Phoenix. Good animals phoenixes. Can eat them over and over again. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, Alastair." Dumbledore sighed, "I must admit I am still in great shock that your real last name happens to be 'Moody'. What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Moody showed him a rock, covered in a red substance.

"Is that turnip juice?" Asked Dumbledore, "Or blood from killing Fawkes, again?"

"Turnip juice." Said Moody, with his mouth full, "Knomb turnip juice. Someone deep-fried bunch of knombs into french fries and ketchup near Weasley house. Fries will add pounds. Oils don't leave system for weeks. Will investigate healthy alternative."

"The Ministry hasn't been fond of Knombs since the hundred year long Wizard/Knomb galactic civil war." Said Dumbledore, "Maybe it was a hitwizard."

"Maybe someone's practicin' to pick-off dark wizard catchers." Said Moody, "Fawkes didn't agree with stomach. Will investigate healthy alternative, too."

He then got up.

"Potter got weapons?" He asked.

"I believe I saw him with some kind of spell-shooter."

"Thanks for the bird."

Moody then apparated somewhere gloomy where he could pace around in the rain.

_Madeye's Journal: Conversation with Dumbledore left bad taste in mouth. Possibly homosexuel, must investigate further. Why are there so few of us out there without personality disorders, large amounts of scars, or missing parts of their–wait a minute._

_Madyeye's Journal: Went to Knockturn Alley to investigate attack on knombs. Not sure if that's how you spell it. First investigation went unsuccessful. Everyone as clueless as a cave troll with a firebolt stabbed threw skull. Knew much of health food, though. Will come back and question again if low-calorie claim proves invalid._

Madeye walked back in the garden of La Borrow, to notice the blasts in the grass looked like that of a Weasley family heirloom.

_Madeye's Journal: All is coming too clear, like a Veela's pure, and perfect skin slowly turning into a scaly beast of death, to stalk and kill all wizard scum who are attracted to it. _

_I can see it all, now. Mister Weasley runs to the Minister, and says 'Help me, I'm being chased by a dark wizard, who has the weapon I gave Harry for his birthday.' The Minister replies 'The solution is simple. Go find Harry Potter, he is destined to overthrow them.' Arthur Weasley looks at him, with tears in his eyes, and says 'Minister, it is Harry who is chasing me.' Happy Birhtday, Harry. Blow out the candles. Make a wish._


End file.
